Daddy Dearest

Chapter Ten

Ben

I might have a drinking problem.

When Waverly sent me up to our room to change out of my work clothes and take a shower, I made a pit stop at the den, unlocked the cabinet in the bar where I kept all of my good scotch and bourbon, uncapped the Lagavulin, and poured myself two shots worth into a snifter. The 16-year scotch was meant to be sipped and savored, but once again, I just poured it down the gullet like my throat was on fire. Then I locked away the used glass in the cabinet.

I needed a drink. It was the only way I could numb myself these days to Melody's allure. God, she smelled good today. When she was standing next to me this afternoon while I sat at my desk in the yearbook office, listening to her pitch for a feature, I have to admit that I was only paying it half the attention it deserved. I was more absorbed by her presence. Her shiny, black hair; full mouth, button nose, smooth skin, and heart-shaped face. My trance was only broken when she sneezed right on me. Luckily, she still had my hankie on hand and managed to cover her nose and mouth in time. I picked up the flowers and set them down on a table some distance away.

Melody looked mortified. "Oh my God, Mr. D, I'm so sorry. I didn't get any of my cooties on you, did I?"

The very fact the she still uses the word "cooties" should really be setting off alarm bells in my head, but instead I thought it charming. "No harm done, Mel."

Mel. I'd never called her that before. I know the twins do. I prefer Melody. Meh-low-dee. The syllables just roll off the tongue so leisurely. Mel is a nickname for a guy called Melvin.

"So what do you think of my idea, sir?" she asked anxiously.

I blinked, returning to myself. I'd been concentrating on identifying her scent. A mixture of orange blossoms, cucumber, and jasmine. I wondered if it were a perfume or a combination of soap, shampoo, lotion, and deodorant. Maybe a light cologne that smelled fruity, which I know she and Lottie sometimes buy when I drive them to that Hello Kitty store in Little Tokyo.

Melody was looking at me expectantly. "I apologize, Miss Plum. I'm sure you're aware by now of my mind's tendency to drift. My wife finds it most annoying, I assure you."

She laughed; a tinkling, joyous sound that enchanted me. "No worries, Mr. D. It happens to me when I'm talking to Nancy, too. She'd be telling me about her day, then I'd suddenly drift off, and before I know it, she's snapping her fingers in my face."

I nodded in commiseration. We were co-conspirators, she and I, and part of a special club of people who'd rather be locked in a room somewhere with a laptop for company to write for hours, instead of socializing with our fellow humans. "I get that, too. I think your idea is sound, Melody. Just show me the mock-up before you present it to Tessie and Marco, all right?"

She nodded happily and skipped back toward her fellow editors.

I had no idea what she actually said, but she's a smart girl. I'm certain she didn't pitch me  anything stupid. Besides, I'd have to admit that I wasn't paying attention because I was too busy ogling her like an old pervert.

Having taken my medicine, my hands stop shaking and the pulse in my throat slows down to a nice, steady beat. Once I assured myself that I had momentarily tamed the vicious, ravening lust-beast, I go up the staircase as quietly as I could because I'm a bad person and actually intend to stand next to my daughter's bedroom door, so that I can listen in on her girl-talk with the object of my desire.

This is just beyond the pale, Benjamin, I tell myself, as I go past Charlotte's bedroom and flatten myself against the wall between hers and Charlie's doors. If Waverly were to come up right now and see me, I'd say I was concerned about Lottie's diet and wanted to check if she had been talking to Melody about it. She'd buy that. I've been quite involved in my kids' lives for the last few years.